


Childhood Stories

by Tehri



Series: Memories of Home [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo did a lot of stupid shit, Bilbo had an eventful childhood, Embarrassing Childhood Stories, The Company finds it hilarious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2533367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tehri/pseuds/Tehri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has an embarrassing childhood story or two. Bilbo is certainly no exception, but he would really prefer it if his companions didn't find out about a particular one. Of course, some things can't be stopped from happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Childhood Stories

_The morning had been quiet – unusually quiet, to be entirely fair, though that could perhaps be attributed to the fact that Bungo and Belladonna were for once alone in their smial while Bilbo was out and about somewhere. Not that they minded; with a little hobbit of eleven years about, you learnt to appreciate whatever silent moments you could get._

_Belladonna was baking in the kitchen, and Bungo had seated himself by the table with a book to keep her company as he was wont to do. They didn’t need to talk; they just enjoyed the silence and the sound of birdsong coming through the window._

_Sadly, the silence didn’t last._

_It was nearly time for luncheon when there came a knock at the door. Before Bungo could get up, they heard the door open and swift steps coming straight towards the kitchen. Their gardener, Halfred Greenhand, appeared in the doorway, looking somewhat nervous._

_“Begging your pardon, master Baggins,” he said slowly. “But there’s… well…”_

_“Well? What’s the matter?” Bungo frowned slightly and tilted his head. Halfred was not the type to come barging in like this. “Has something happened?”_

_“Well,” Halfred said, dragging out the silence for another moment before he continued. “My chickens are dead, sir.”_

_“Dead?”_

_Both Bungo and Belladonna stared at him in surprise._

_“Yes, sir. And the rooster is drunk.” The poor hobbit shrugged helplessly. “And so is the neighbour’s sow. And… Well, you see… About young master Bilbo…”_

_Now that sent a trickle of worry into Belladonna’s mind._

_“What about Bilbo?” she asked sharply. “What’s happened, Halfred?”_

_“Bilbo is… well…”_

_“Out with it,” Bungo snapped, rising from his seat. “What’s wrong with Bilbo?”_

_Halfred sighed deeply._

_“Bilbo is… also drunk.”_

_There is a sort of silence that some are wont to describe as ‘shocked’. That would probably be the proper description for the heavy silence that followed Halfred’s statement, coupled with the stares that were levelled at him._

 

* * *

 

 

While the rest at Beorn’s home was just what they all needed, there were some things that Bilbo thought they could have done without. Such as the calls for stories. He really didn’t mind feeding his companions more ridiculous notions about hobbits (on the whole, the more Tookish part of him found that very funny), but when the subject of embarrassing childhood stories came up, he started to wish for a quick escape.

The dwarves were cheerfully telling each other all sorts of ridiculous things they had done as children, and Bilbo sat beside Gandalf and tried to inconspicuously become part of the floor or the wooden pillar he was leaning against before their attention would turn on him.

“I’m sure you have some tales to add, Bilbo,” Gandalf suddenly said to him. “Do you not?”

There was a twinkle in the wizard’s eye that the hobbit really did not like. It was the twinkle that said “either you will speak, or I will do so in your stead”.

“I’m sure I don’t,” he grumbled. “And even if I did, why would I want to tell those tales? I already get laughed at plenty when I meet my relatives.”

“Why, they’re good tales, of course,” Gandalf said, his voice just a little bit louder than before. And before Bilbo could make the slightest gesture for him to keep it down, thirteen dwarves turned their heads to look at them.

“That’s right,” Kili shouted. “We haven’t heard any tales from you, Bilbo!”

“Come on, what did you do when you were little?” Fili asked, eagerly leaning forward. “We’ve told everything we can think of, now it’s your turn!”

Bilbo gave Gandalf a withering glare.

“Why would I do something so stupid?” he snapped. “I’ve been ridiculed enough as it is, I should think.”

“Why, indeed,” Gandalf hummed around his pipe. “Considering what happened that time when-“

“ _No_ , Gandalf,” Bilbo growled. “No childhood stories. Not now, not ever. Especially not around this lot.”

“Come now, lad,” said Balin, smiling warmly at the hobbit. “Whatever you may have done as a child, I’m sure it can’t have been that bad.”

Bilbo snorted.

“Except nearly giving my poor parents apoplexy on several occasions, you mean,” he muttered.

“Not to mention the gardener,” Gandalf pointed out.

“I will shave your beard and shove it down your throat, wizard or no,” Bilbo hissed, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

“You’re blushing,” Fili called gleefully. “Come now, Bilbo, out with it! What did you do?”

“Oh, I know!” Kili laughed. “Did you run into your parents’ bedroom when they were-“

“Yes, but that’s neither here nor there,” Bilbo snapped. “I was twelve that time, that’s not even the worst I’ve ever done. And it’s not what Gandalf’s talking about.”

“Well, what’s he talking about then?” asked Dwalin, pinning Bilbo with a curious stare. “It sounds like it might be a good story.”

“It’s not good,” Bilbo grumbled. “It was a very ridiculous-“

“Ridiculous indeed,” Gandalf chuckled.

“Very ridiculous thing that happened when I was eleven, which had this horrible old man laughing until he nearly wept,” Bilbo finished, shooting another disgruntled glare at the wizard. “Gandalf laughed, my parents laughed, my grandparents laughed, as well as my aunts, uncles and cousins. I’ll never escape the story as it is, and I’d rather not tell any of you. It was a painful experience for me.”

The dwarves were silent for a while, and Bilbo was just about to settle into the belief that they had decided to stop asking more ridiculous questions when-

“Got into the wine-cellar, did you?” Dwalin asked with a wide grin.

The poor hobbit sighed and shook his head.

“No, actually,” he replied. “Not a bad guess, though.”

“So it’s got something to do with alcohol,” Kili said slowly. “But you didn’t get into the wine-cellar? Did you steal some at the table?”

“No.”

“Well, what happened, then?”

“Please, stop asking.”

In hindsight, he really should have known better than to give any hints at all. The dwarves kept prodding and asking over and over again what had happened. Slowly but surely, Bilbo’s patience was worn away by each question, until finally he snapped.

“Fine,” he shouted. “Fine! There was a cherry tree nearby, and a lot of cherries had fallen to the ground and started going bad, and maybe poor old Halfred had the job of shovelling it all into barrels and taking them away!” Bilbo groaned and covered his face with his hands. “I was curious about where they were taking all the cherries, so I followed him when he brought them to his home. And then he went off for a while, and their hens were running about, and I fed them some cherries… And maybe they started acting a bit strange, and I got curious…”

The dwarves exchanged quick knowing glances and grinned brightly at each other.

“Well, I filled my pockets and wandered off, and I passed by their neighbour’s pig-pen,” Bilbo sighed. “And I gave the pig some cherries to eat, and then the pig started acting strange too, so I gave in and went back to the barrels and ate more of the cherries…”

“You ate fermented cherries, didn’t you?” Dwalin asked. “You ate fermented cherries and got drunk.”

“Well and truly plastered,” the hobbit groaned. “Poor Halfred found me and got his family to look after me while he ran to fetch my parents, and once I was home they had to fetch a healer… And when I woke up, I threw up in my da’s lap, and they could barely even bring a candle into my room because the light hurt my eyes…”

By this time, the dwarves were howling with laughter. Gandalf had stopped puffing on his pipe and was laughing as well, while poor Bilbo sat curled up by the pillar and silently wished that he could sink through the floor.

 

* * *

 

 

Once again, Bilbo was awake while the others had fallen asleep. He sat alone by the fading fire and puffed on his pipe, finally feeling calm again after having endured the teasing of his companions for the better part of the evening. He was ready to start cursing them in his mind again when he heard footsteps behind him, but as he turned he saw Thorin slowly walk over to him. The dwarf gave him a small smile and sat down beside him, staring into the fire.

“Really,” Thorin said after a while. “You ate fermented cherries?”

“I hope you realise that I won’t be more indulgent of any teasing just because everyone else has fallen asleep,” Bilbo grumbled.

“I’m just curious, master Baggins. Why would you ever do that?”

“I was a child of eleven years,” the hobbit sighed. “I was curious. I’m sure you did a lot of ridiculous things in your youth.”

“I know I did.” Thorin smirked. “Though I never got myself drunk on fermented fruit.”

“Keep teasing me about it, and you might add that achievement to your life,” Bilbo warned.

Thorin chuckled silently and shook his head; Bilbo relaxed just a little bit, for once feeling rather at ease with being teased for that particular event.

“Threw up in your father’s lap, eh?” Thorin’s eyes glittered with mirth, and Bilbo grimaced and nodded. “That must’ve been a laugh.”

“Not really,” Bilbo sighed. “Though he didn’t even look surprised. Didn’t bat an eye. Just cleaned me up, got mum to keep an eye on me and went to clean himself up. He had that look on his face that indicated that it might’ve happened before.”

“You must’ve had a brilliant childhood.”

“I don’t know about brilliant. Just filled with ridiculous events.”

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily based on Astrid Lindgren's story about Emil of Lönneberga, and how he ate fermented cherries and got drunk. I couldn't stop laughing when I thought about that, because it seemed like something that would have happened to Bilbo when he was little.


End file.
